My Lady Jane(88)

“Only one way to find out,” she replied.

He took a sip.

Tea. No milk or sugar, but tea, all the same.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re perfect—I mean, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s what the English drink in times of crisis, I hear.” She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, then yawned, then smiled. “We Scots prefer whisky.”

He was too tired to smile back properly. He drank the tea slowly, savoring the heat that filled his belly. He felt his shoulders start to relax.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Gracie asked him as she took the empty cup from his hand. “Jane.”

“Yes, I love her,” he said. “We’ve known each other all our lives.”

He was about to say something more, about how Jane was like a sister to him, that kind of affection between them, but then he heard a mad, joyful little bark, and Pet was on him.

The dog wiggled and danced all over him, whining and whimpering and yipping, her tail wagging like mad. He grinned and tried to pet her, but she wouldn’t hold still. It was only when she started to lick his face that he remembered that there was a girl someone in there, a person, and he sobered and tried to get to his feet.

“Someone’s happy to see you,” Gracie remarked.

“Uh . . . yes,” he said. “Down, Pet. Down.”

There was a flash, and she was a naked girl.

“Your Majesty,” she said earnestly. “I am so glad to see you. I followed your scent all the way here, and I thought I’d lost it once, but I found it again. I would have come more quickly, but you told me to protect Jane, so I stayed with them.”

He resisted the urge to say “good girl” and pat her on the head. “Well done, Pet,” he said instead. “You did well to stay with Jane.”

He would never get used to Pet being a naked girl. Her hair was long and thick and it fell over her in all the needed places, but it still shocked him every single time.

He wasn’t the only one. Gracie was standing there with her mouth open. It was the most taken aback he’d ever seen her. He would have laughed if the whole situation weren’t so completely uncomfortable.

“So, Pet,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Gracie MacTavish. Gracie, this is Petunia Bannister, my . . . er . . .” Bodyguard felt like the wrong word. Protector seemed unmanly. Companion could be taken the wrong way. “Watch . . . person,” he settled on finally.

Pet cocked her head to one side and stared at Gracie. Then she sniffed the air. “Fox,” she deduced, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “So you’re the one I smelled.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gracie said wryly.

In a flash, Pet was a dog again. She crouched next to Edward’s feet, gave Gracie a baleful stare, and then growled low in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Edward said, mortified on so many levels. “She’s never been too fond of strangers.” He bent to admonish the hound. “Gracie saved my life, Pet. She’s my friend.”

Pet laid her head down on her paws and sighed heavily.

He glanced up to find Gracie staring at him. “What?” he asked. “I know it’s a bit unconventional, but her family has been serving the royal line for generations, apparently, and I only knew she was an E?ian a few weeks ago, I swear.”

“Is that what I am? Your friend?” Gracie asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Because I saved your life?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean—” He didn’t know which answer she wanted. He paused to collect himself. “Do you consider me your friend?”

Gracie shook her head. “I don’t know what to consider you, Sire.”

His teeth came together. “Edward,” he corrected.

Pet growled again. He frowned at her, and she fell silent.

“Is there anything else I don’t know about you?” Gracie asked. “Any more surprises we have in store?”

There was so much she didn’t know about him, he thought, that he would like her to know. But he answered, “No. I think that’s it.”

“All right, then.” She gave a little bow. “Your Majesty. Pet. I must take my leave for now. Your granny has asked me to procure some items for her, and I cannot refuse the old lady.”

“Procure, as in steal?” Edward asked.

Dimples. “It’s best not to ask too many questions, Sire. You worry yourself about your Jane. Leave me to my own devices.”

Your Jane. He settled back into his spot against the wall. Your Jane, like Jane belonged to him somehow, and had that been an edge in Gracie’s voice when she said it? Like she was jealous? Like she wished that she could be his Gracie?

He could only hope.

“She’s going to live,” Gran announced sometime later, startling Edward from where he was most definitely not sleeping. “She’s asking for you. I’ve put her in your bed, as it’s the most comfortable in the keep. Don’t wear her out with talking. She’ll heal quickly, but she needs rest.”

He told Pet to stay, and ran all the way up the stairs.

Jane was sitting propped up with pillows. She looked tired, and vaguely ill, with lavender circles under her eyes and her lips pale as chalk, but she smiled at him bravely.